Fighting Grace
by Fourth Lumbar Down
Summary: WIP Grace honestly hadn't meant to go as far as she did - but when a woman ends up in the hospital, someone needs to be blamed, and it just so happens to be Grace. When faced with Juvie or her absent mother, Grace has a feeling she can't win either way. She doesn't want to move, she so doesn't want her mother, and she doesn't want attachments. Puck doesn't really care.
1. Chapter 1

"You're going to love it here in Lima. Its a small town, but it has its charm," Grace is doing a wonderful job if ignoring Maribel. Its hard work, because the woman has yet to shut up during their long drive from California to Ohio. Its agonizing, but this is actually the first time she's flat out mentioned Lima. She's focused on Carlos, Maribel's husband, and Santana, her daughter. And God, the woman wouldn't stop _talking _about her - how she was on the cheerleading squad, or part of glee club, or how her bestfriend's name was Brittany. Grace was pretty sure she knew Santana's life story.

She wanted to go home.

"It'll be much better for you than Charming."

"There is _nothing _wrong with Charming," Grace snaps. Because she's let this bitch talk about her cute little family with her doctor husband and cute little daughter - Grace doesn't care, but she was not about to let her talk about SAMCRO.

"Other than the fact that its run by a biker gang?" Maribel asks, taking her eyes off the road to give Grace a look that clearly says "_Don't be stupid," _and Grace resists the urge to deck her in her plastic face.

"Oh, you mean the biker gang that you whore'd yourself out to? The one you were oh so eager to join that you spread your legs for any prospect or Son that looked your way?" Grace asks sarcastically, giving a vindictive smile when Maribel's hands tighten on the steering wheel.

"I got out of that, and I made the mistake of leaving you there when I did. I'm fixing that now," the woman actually sounds sincere, and if it wasn't so pathetic, she'd laugh.

"Your husband left you because you were a crack addict, you ran back to mommy and daddy in Charming, and fell into life as a Crow Eater pretty damn well, and then you got pregnant with me. My dad _made _you get clean while you had me. And then your husband comes back, with the daughter you had with him, who wasn't even a year old, and you just _fucking left,"_its a sore spot for Grace. Her dad had gone through a lot of shit to make sure that Maribel got clean, had a nice place to stay, and full protection. And then she goes and runs off with some doctor who kicked her to the curb and took her kid? Who did that shit?

"You should've stayed gone," Grace tells her plainly, turning back to the passenger window. They're almost to Maribel's house, having past the **Welcome To Lima **sign ten or so minutes ago, and Grace wants out of this fucking car.

"I'm sorry you feel that way," Maribel says, but she doesn't sound sorry at all. Grace clenches her fists, but says nothing. She has no idea why Maribel decided to grow a conscience sixteen years after she took off, but Grace wishes like Hell she hadn't.

"We're here," Maribel announces, pulling into a driveway that lead to a fancy looking house. Its big, and white, and clean. Grace hates it. She grew up at the Club House, sleeping in a little loft her dad and Uncle Clay had made for her. It was dirty at times, but it was home, and always filled with a Son or Gemma. Grace kind of wants to cry, but fights back the tears. The court had awarded her dad vacation privileges, so all she had to do was make it until Thanksgiving, and then she'd be back where she belonged.

Grace is out of car before the engine cuts, pulling her bags out of the back seat. "Let me help you -"

"Don't touch my shit," Grace doesn't care if its petty. She'll take care of her stuff without Maribel; she doesn't want to interact with the woman more than she has to.

"I just want to help," Maribel pleads softly, resting a thin hand on Grace's arm. It makes Grace pause and really look at the woman who was supposed to be her mother. It sounds like Maribel's trying, it really does, but she's sixteen years too late. Grace had gotten over her mom leaving when she was five and Gemma had taken her out to get her nails done. Grace didn't need Maribel - she had Gemma. Gemma had been the one to help her pick out clothes, get her hair done, to buy her tampons and pads, and take her to _Victoria Secret _to get her first thong.

Gemma had been the one to hold her when Johnny had cheated on her with Lexi from down the street, and Gemma had been the one to tell Jax, who'd kicked the shit out of Johnny. Gemma had taught her how to shoot, how to walk in heels, and to never let a man walk all over you.

"I dont want your help," Grace whispers back, giving Maribel a smile that her dad swore was all Gemma, "And I don't want you."

Grace had holed herself up in the room Maribel had set up for her; white walls, white carpet, and a pale blue comforter. Grace wanted her old blanket back, the one that had been custom made to say "_Princess Amongst The Sons" _with the Reaper that she'd gotten for her birthday when she was ten.

She wanted to kick over the vanity that was pressed up against the wall. She wanted to break the lamp on the nightstand, take a hammer to the walls, tear up the carpet, and break the bed frame. _God, _but she wanted to go home. She took out her iPhone, instead, sending her dad a short text.

**I MISS YOU. **

He wouldn't answer, because they'd be having Church right about now, and if not, he'd be face down in some random Crow Eater. She'd have to wait until the morning to get a reply, but it would be something to wake up to.

"Hey," there was a knock at the door, and a voice that didn't sound like Maribel. Santana, then, most likely. "School starts tomorrow. I get up at five, and I leave at 6:45. Be in the driveway by then if you want a ride," and then she left.

Grace groaned, flopping on the bed. **FUCK. I HAVE SCHOOL TOMORROW :O **she texted Juice, because he was the closest thing she had to a bestfriend, and he'd always answer his phone. Sure enough, her phone vibrated a minute later, **SUCKS, BABE. WANT ME 2 JAILBREAK U? :D**

Grace laughed, smiling despite herself. **LET ME TERRORIZE THE MASSES FOR A LITTLE BIT B4 YOU DO. **She sent back, getting a winky face in return.

Grace curled around her phone, falling asleep in a cold room with the lights still on.

* * *

She got up at half past six. She didn't take a lot of time in the morning, and since she had an adjoining bathroom, she wouldn't have to go very far to get ready. Grace honestly didn't care about looking nice for school. She hadn't at Charming, and she sure as Hell didn't care now.

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Grace was waiting on the driveway at 6:43, and Santana shot her a smirk. It was disturbing, to see someone who looked so much like her. "We're picking up Britt, so you'll be sitting in the back - and if you say one rude thing to her, I'll cut you," she threatened, and Grace figured it was meant to be intimidating.

She also figured that it meant Maribel hadn't told her precious daughter than she used to slum it with a biker gang. _That, _or Santana was incredibly stupid.

Grace shot her a fake smile, easily climbing into the back seat. The drive to Brittany's was quiet, and Grace was silently thankful. She had no idea what she'd do if Santana was a chatty as Maribel. Santana honked the horn, and a pretty blonde came skipping out the door a few moments later. "Lord Tubbington tried to kill Charity last night," is the first thing she says. "It was really upsetting, but they've made up, now."

"I'm sorry, Britt-Britt," Santana practically coos, rubbing the blonde's shoulder. "You remember me saying that my sister was going to be going to school with us, right?"

"Yeah," Brittany nods happily, and then her shoulders drop dramatically, "But you never told me you had a sister," she doesn't say it accusingly. Its more confused than anything, like she can't believe that Santana would keep something hidden from her.

"We didn't know about each other," Grace butts in, feeling strangely bad, "I'm sure if she'd known about me she would've told you," Grace gives the blonde and actual smile. She gets a beaming look from Brittany and the distinct feeling that she's made a friend, and a grateful look Santana shoots her through the rearview mirror.

Her phone vibrates, and Grace ignores the two as they talk in favor the the texts she's getting.

**FROM DADDY: MISS YOU 2, BABYGIRL. **

**FROM JUICE: HOW LONG B4 THEY SUSPEND YOU? I SAY 3 MONTHS. DON'T LET ME DOWN, BABE;)**

**FROM JAX-E-POO: DON'T LISTEN TO JUICE. I BET ON NEVER, DON'T LET ME DOWN. **

**FROM MAMA GEMMA: GOOD LUCK, SWEETHEART. MAKE FRIENDS AND PUNCH THAT BITCH FOR ME. **

Grace feels better, knowing that they're all thinking of her. She knows they would never forget about her, but she's in desperate need of reassurance.

**TO DADDY: TRY TO BEHAVE WHILE I'M GONE XX**

**TO JUICE ; JAX-E-POO: WE'LL SEE, BOYS ;P**

**TO MAMA GEMMA: THANK YOU. AND I MAKE NO PROMISES, BUT I'LL TAKE ANY OPPORTUNITY. **

They've made it to the school by the time Grace looks up from her phone, "You'll have to go to the front office to get your schedule. Its not hard to find, I doubt you need me there to hold your hand," Santana tells her.

"And here I was hoping," Grace replies dryly, getting a smirk in return. They could probably get along, she realizes. Santana seems like a blunt, sarcastic bitch, so Grace shouldn't have a problem with her. She's the same way.

"You have to meet everyone before you go," Brittany insists, twisting in her seat to give Grace a serious face, like if she doesn't meet everyone the world will end.

"I'm sure there's enough time for me to meet them first," Grace said. She had the sinking feeling that Brittany would be her downfall.

"Yay," Brittany clapped her hands, giving Grace yet another smile.

"That's good, because they're all waiting to meet you," Santana paused, giving Grace a look over, "Can you sing?"

"A bit," Grace shrugs. Her dad had always told her she had an amazing voice, but that was kind of his job. And everyone else in the club, too. She was their little girl, they couldn't exactly tell her if she sounded like a dying walrus. "Is this about that glee thing your mom wouldn't shut up about?"

"She's your mom, too," Santana smirks, sliding out of the car, Brittany and Grace following after her.

They make it to the sidewalk before they're bombarded by people. "Hi, I'm Rachel Berry, lead soloist of New Directions," Rachel greets, holding her hand out. Grace looks at her, eyebrow raised. Everyone else seems used to Rachel, and only a little annoyed. There's an awkward pause before Rachel drops her hand. "Anyways, this is Finn," she motions to a tall, gangly looking boy who gives her an awkward wave, "Quinn," a pretty blonde, "Artie," who is a boy in a wheelchair, who gives her a shy smile that she returns, "Mercedez, Tina, Kurt, and Puck," she finishes.

Grace nods at all of them, eyes lingering on "Puck." She had no doubt that it was a nickname, probably from hockey or something. he reminded her of Juice with his mohawk and dorky little face. He caught her looking and smirked, wiggling his eyebrows. Grace snorted, a small smile on her lips.

"So, Grace. Do you sing?" Rachel asked.

* * *

AN: Hope you enjoyed it:) this is a WIP, so don't expect too much. Anyways, feel free to comment or ask any question.


	2. Chapter 2

No matter where you are, high school will always suck. Grace had been able to breeze through Charming High, because she was affiliated with SAMCRO - and, more importantly, her last name was _Trager. _ She hadn't been at the top of the totem pole, or the middle, or the bottom. She'd been off to the side; easy to get along with, easy to piss off, easy to avoid. She'd had a few friends in school, of course, but Kip and Juice were all she needed.

Here in Lima, Grace had all the room to tear or break down whatever status being the new girl had given her, and she hated it. She hated everything about the situation she was in, but Wendy had to be _handled, _and Jax sure as Hell wasn't going to do it. Grace winced; it sounded horrible when she put it like that.

Wendy wasn't anyone's first choice. Grace knew for a fact that only Tara would do it for Jax, but he could settle. Which he did with Wendy. And apparently, being Jax's second choice for his old lady was enough to give her a sense of superiority and and a complex at the same time.

Wendy walked around like she owned the place, and demanded the respect that Gemma had earned. Grace didn't care; Wendy was a Crow Eater, always had been, always would be. There were some things you just couldn't rise above, and that was one of them.

It was a cat fight that got out of hand, mostly because Grace didn't _do _cat fights. It wasn't her fault that Wendy was a little bitch and went to the hospital for a broken nose and some cracked ribs, right at the exact time when Hale was walking by.

Grace was pretty sure that Jax thought it was hilarious. But then again, the blonde shit thought everything was funny.

And apparently, taking a language class was mandatory. Grace spoke English and Bitchenese, and that was all she really needed, thanks. Apparently, the school system didn't follow the same logic, because her skinny as was firmly planted in a plastic desk, front and center.

"My name is Mr. Schuester, Grace - I'm your Spanish teacher, obviously," here he gave her a charming grin that occupied his entire face. It vaguely reminded her of Chibs, her Scottish love. Except this cookie cutter, gelled hair, perfect teeth _teacher _wasn't anything like her Son. "But I'm also the director of the Glee club, which I'm sure Rachel has told you about," _fucking Rachel Berry. _Not even three classes into the day, and Grace was pretty sure that _Rachel Fucking Berry _wasn't making it out alive.

Three classes, and the famous Trager attitude had been beaten into terrified submission, because the girl was relentless.

She'd call Happy, have the Tacoma Killer come down - he'd make it look like an accident, he was good at that kind of stuff. And then he could whisk her off into the sunset on is low rider. _I promise to treat you as good as my leather, and ride you as much as my Harley. _She'd take that with Happy any day of the week. Maybe Maribel was right - dad _had_ done something wrong if she was attracted to a fifty something Sergeant At Arms.

Grace tilted her head, idly recognizing the fact that Cookie Cutter was still talking. Or, maybe she was just attracted to the idea that Happy was a man who knew what he was doing and could protect her, from a stray bug to a stray bullet. Was there really anything wrong with that?

"So what do you say?"

Shit, she should've been listening. _Damn you, Happy, you distracting son of a bitch, _she thought viciously. "Yeah, sounds good," she agreed, practically cringing. She heard a few of the students around her snicker, and knew immediately that she'd made the wrong choice.

"Thats awesome, you can tryout during your lunch period - most of the kids eat in the rehearsal room, anyways, so you'll get to meet everyone."

"Tryout," she deadpanned, sinking into her seat. _Oh, God, no. Please tell me he's, like, the football coach, too, and thats what I'm trying out for. Hell, I'll take the Marching Band, just not Rachel Berry. _

"Well, we can't let just anyone into Glee, can we?" he laughs, unaware that he is killing her slowly.

Grace lets loose a wounded animal noise, nearly identical to the one she'd made when Kip had showed her a torture video that made her a proud vegan.

She took out her phone, and texted Juice three simple letters.

**TO JUICE: S.O.S.**

* * *

AN: its kind of just a filler, because its, like, 1:25 in the morning, and I'm crashing after a hard day of babysitting and energy drinks. Not an excuse, but whatevs. Feel free to comment, good or bad, its always appreciated.


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